Outside it is dark and wet,
but not inside my blanket.
I sink into the soft fabric.
Winter warmth tastes like magic.
I cocoon in the thick quilt,
Allowing cushions to tilt.
A deep touch stimulation,
Sweet dreams turn to fruitaton.
Gentle fibres beneath my
fingers brush in between try,
to impersonate cats.
My mind erases the twats.
I am safe when I inhale.
I can relax when I exhale.
I curl, rocking side to side:
Rest is one heck of a ride.
Celadon tunes soothing eyes.
Craving sweet potato fries,
Chocolate marshmallows and tea,
This night will make history.
Cinnamon frosted latte…
Goodnight sleep is here to say.
About the Creator
Chloe Gilholy
Former healthcare worker and lab worker from Oxfordshire. Author of ten books including Drinking Poetry and Game of Mass Destruction. Travelled to over 20 countries.
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More stories from Chloe Gilholy and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Hour Long Minute
I’m finally off of work from my overnight shift and now comes the hard part. I do Ride-share driving for about two or three hours after I get off of work each morning, not only to make ends meet, but to put away a little extra money for my rapidly approaching wedding.
By Earl W. Pearl3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Smooth cozy poem🥰I have to put that weight blanket on my Santa List for sure .
Cinnamon frosted latte, chocolate marshmallows and tea. You've made me hungry. Lol. Loved your poem!